Of Phoenix Feathers and Hippogriff Claws
by trellyasigma
Summary: Newt Scamander hasn't had the best childhood. His brother bullies him, his father hates him, and his mother is going insane. He hopes things will be better at Hogwarts, but with the way life has turned out so far, he doubts it. A series of loosely joined one-shots describing Newt's Hogwarts career and on.
1. Chapter 1

**One: Diagon Alley**

Newton Scamander was sitting in his room, gently playing with the bowtruckle he'd managed to lure from its tree in their garden. It was small and delicate, and seemed to be enjoying hanging off of the boy's fingers. "Ouch," he hissed, as the creature dug in its tiny claws. "Be nice, Frederick."

Newt was jerked from his happy world when someone knocked on his bedroom door. "Newty, you fat arse, get going! We're leaving for Diagon Alley in ten minutes. Mother's actually acting sane for once, and we want to keep up appearances while we can." It was Theseus, Newt's older brother. Theseus Scamander was a fourth year Gryffindor, and the top of his class. Once upon a time, they'd gotten along rather well, but that was before Mother's illness and Father decided Newt was the cause of all of the family's problems.

"Coming," Newt sighed, getting to his feet and letting Frederick out onto the tree just outside his window. "I'll be back this evening," he assured the tiny creature, before opening his door, revealing his older brother.

Theseus had always been a good-looking child, but now at fourteen he was starting to look more like a man, which made him even more attractive. He had Father's dark hair and strikingly blue eyes, as well as the broad shoulders and square jaw. Newt, on the other hand, was thin and lanky. He had red-gold hair that was so curly it refused to ever be fully tamed, and green eyes that were always flitting from place to place, never keeping eye contact for more than an instant. Theseus looked just like their father, but Newt looked just like their mother. He sometimes wondered if that contributed to how vehemently his father hated him.

"You're decent? No dung or animal pieces?" Newt clenched his jaw to stop himself from retorting, and nodded. Theseus rolled his eyes and turned around. "Come on, then. Try not to send Mother back into insanity with your obsession."

As soon as Newt came down the stairs, his father sniffed. "Decided to come down in clean clothes today, did we? How thoughtful."

Newt flinched, staring at the ground. His hands twitched at his sides, unsure of what to do with themselves. Suddenly, there was a gentle pair of hands on either side of his face, and he looked up to see his mother smiling at him. Her eyes were clear, and she clearly recognized him, something that hadn't happened for a while. "Newton, darling, you look so handsome today! If you were a hipogriff, you'd be a prize stallion."

Theseus snickered, and Newt felt his cheeks flush bright crimson. All the same, it felt good to be complimented. That hadn't happened since the last time his mother had fully come out of her daze, and that had been almost two months ago. Her good days were getting farther and farther apart, and Newt knew soon he'd be truly alone, but he always chose to forget that. It made everything hurt a little less.

"Merlin, Celestia, don't coddle the boy. You'll make him more of a freak than he already is." Newt felt any warmth in him be sucked away by the icy tone of his father's voice.

Celestia Scamander straightened and turned to her husband, eyes flashing angrily. "Perseus Humphrey Scamander, if I hear you talking about your son like that in my presence again, I will curse you until you are nothing more than hippogriff feed. Understood?"

Father wilted a little under her glare. "Yes dear," he said meekly. Newt knew as soon as the fog descended once more he'd abandon that promise, but at least for now he'd be free from torment.

"Now," Mother said, fixing the shawl around her shoulders (which was mainly there to ensure no one noticed how horribly thin her arms were), "are we going to Diagon Alley or not?"

Theseus smiled his typical dashing smile, the one that always convinced their family's guests that he was the good one, that Newt deserved the verbal abuse he was put through most every day. "Of course, Mother."

Of course, Mother had never been quite as fond of her older son as everyone else in the world was. She ignored him, and simply gestured for her husband to throw the Floo powder into the fireplace. He obeyed quickly, obviously still thrown off by her earlier threat.

With a crackle, the flames turned a beautiful emerald green. Theseus stepped forward, his chin pointed up, his strut more pronounced than normal. He was probably trying to gain some attention from Mother, but Newt knew it probably wouldn't work. "Diagon Alley!" He shouted, and then vanished.

"Newton, you next," Father barked. Newt winced, but stepped into the green flames as he was told. He stared at the fire and pretended it was a snake, or some other creature that wouldn't yell at him.

He straightened his back, and stared his father right in the eyes. The man's eyebrows shot up, which made sense, since he always avoided eye contact if he could help it. "Diagon Alley."

A few seconds later, Newt was dusting himself off as he stepped out of the Flourish and Blotts fireplace. Theseus was standing nearby, and grinned cruelly. "Didn't stutter this time? D-d-diag-gon All-lley?" Recently, as Mother's episodes became the norm instead of the odd day, Newt had found himself stuttering almost everything he said.

One particularly horrible incident was when he stuttered saying Diagon Alley and ended up in Knockturn Alley. Now, Knockturn Alley had a few unsavory shops and tended to attract unsavory people, so Theseus found it truly hilarious. Father had called him a "stupid boy," and once they'd gotten home had locked Newt in his room for a full day without food. Theseus had continued to mock him about it ever since.

Mother and Father stepped out of the fire then, looking utterly graceful and very refined. Mother noticed Newt staring at her, and smiled gently, a sadness in her eyes. She never quite understood what happened during her episodes, but she always felt sorry when she woke up.

The shopping itself was dull for the most part. Robes, books, a cauldron... even his getting wand wasn't particularly interesting (ash and unicorn hair, 11 inches, with a piece of firecrab shell on the handle that he loved). It wasn't until Mother pulled out her purse and insisted she get him an owl just in case she wasn't awake for Christmas that he became interested.

"Absolutely not," his father insisted. "He can use the owls at school."

Mother narrowed her eyes, and Newt knew she was getting angry again. "Theseus has his own owl, Persy. You bought him the nicest owl you could find, because no son of yours was going to Hogwarts without the best. But not Newt?"

Father's face was growing red. "The boy's soft, Celestia! He spends all day playing with beasts instead of his own _species._ He can hardly speak right, nowadays. He's a disgrace!"

Newt felt tears welling in his eyes. It was one thing for Father to say those things to him, but it was another thing entirely for him to say it to Mother. She looked more angry than he'd ever seen her before. "Spending time with creatures makes you soft, does it?"

Newt's eyes widened. His mother bred hippogriffs, and as her illness took hold he'd been helping out more and more. He suspected they'd have to hire some people to help once he went off to school, but that was beside the point. Father had never dared to criticize Mother's love for magical creatures before.

"I-" he realized his mistake far too late. "Of course not, dear, I didn't mean to imply–"

"Enough. We are going to buy Newton an owl, and that's that. Come on, dear, let's go look at them." Mother held out her hand for Newt to take. He grabbed it gratefully, feeling self-conscious with Theseus' angry glare at his back.

They soon returned with a beautiful female barn owl, her feathers perfectly preened. He was thinking about naming her Athena, since his family did so love Greek names. "You'll be a good friend to me at Hogwarts, Athena," Newt whispered, gently stroking her feathers. "I'm sure of it."

Theseus unfortunately heard his exchange and snorted. "Talking to animals, again, Newty? You do know they can't understand you?"

"I wouldn't be so sure, Thee," Newt said softly, still stroking his beautiful new friend. "Magical creatures understand for more than we think they do."

Soon, they were climbing back into the fire with all their shopping, stepping once more into the emerald green flames that sucked them away from the brightly colored Diagon Alley and back to the cold, empty Scamander Estate.

Newt ran up the stairs with his owl the instant his feet touched the floor. He could hear his father barking at him to wipe off the soot, but he ignored him, despite knowing the consequences that could have later on. When he opened the door to his room, he found it just as he'd left it. Breathing a sigh of relief, Newt set down the cage on his bedside table before heading to the window. Peering outside, he saw that Frederick had hardly moved.

The creature chirped happily upon seeing him and held out its arms so Newt could grab him easier. "Hullo, Frederick. How was your day? A fair bit better than mine, I expect." The bowtruckle crossed its arms and pouted. Newt rolled his eyes and shifted it to his other hand. "Oh do stop your whining. At least you didn't have to put up with Thee and Father."

Someone knocked on his door, making Newt flinch violently. "Newt, sweetheart, would you like to go help me with the hippogriffs? It's been so long since I've been able to go see them." It was his mother, her voice brimming with barely concealed excitement.

Newt was on his feet in an instant. Frederick whined miserably, and began to maneuver himself into the boy's shirtsleeve. "Oh hush, you. You love the hippogriffs too," he hissed at the bowtruckle, before opening the door. "Come on, Mother, lets go!"

The next few hours raised Newt's spirits higher than they'd been in months. He loved tending to the majestic creatures, and they all trusted him completely. All of them were thrilled to see Mother back as well, which meant they were more cooperative than usual with things like their baths and claw trimming.

"Newt, darling," she said after a while, pausing in her stroking of the animal's back, "you do know that Father and Theseus don't hate you, right?"

Newt was so surprised by this statement he actually snorted. "I'm sorry, Mother, but did you not see or hear them at all today? They were even being a little kinder for your sake!"

Mother smiled sadly, her eyes gleaming in the dim light of the stable. "You're so much like me, Newton. More than you can ever know. Theseus and your father see that, and they see how I always focus more on you when I wake up, and they get jealous. They hate you for attracting my attention and they hate you for being like me, but they don't truly hate you. Neither of them will ever harm you, Newt. If they do, then the next time I wake up I want you to tell me so I can get you out at once."

The boy stared down at the ground, feeling his stutter rise in him. "I-I didn't ask to be l-l-like you. A-all I wanted was to..." he trailed off, not entirely sure what he was about to say.

His mother stepped forward and kissed the top of his head, pouring all her love into the one second of contact. "I know, darling. Don't let them get to you. No matter what happens to me, all I'll ever want from you is to be happy and be yourself. And that's all that matters. Alright?"

"Alright," he said softly, watching as his mother turned and left the stable, leaving him alone, as usual. Despite his mother's words, there was still the tiny voice that told him he was a hopeless freak. He shook himself and smiled once more at the hippogriff in front of him. Even if humans hated him or found him annoying, Newt could always count on his creatures.

 **Author's Note:**

 **I'm back, babyyyy!**

 **It's been forever since I've done anything more than a one-shot on this site. For fans of Mafiafoy, I'm still extremely stuck in writer's block, so it'll pretty much be permanently put on hold. But hey, now there's this story, which is basically one-shots that all have the same universe. I love Newt Scamander, and I want the best for him, but I'm convinced he had a pretty sad childhood, so that's why I'm writing this.**

 **That, and I just graduated from high school, so I have some time on my hands.**

 **Trellya**


	2. Chapter 2

**Two: First Day at Hogwarts**

Newt's whole body was bubbling with anticipation, his eyes shining as he made his way through the crowds of wizarding families on Platform 9 3/4. Far behind him Father and Theseus were chatting about just about anything, and Newt felt a pang at the fond tone of his father's voice. Closer to him was Mother, every step calm and collected, her presence soothing his grating nerves.

When he'd woken up that morning to find her making them all breakfast like it was the most natural thing in the world, he'd burst into tears and hugged her fiercely around the waist. Her last clear day had been their trip to Diagon Alley almost three weeks ago. Newt had been afraid she wouldn't wake up until both of them were gone.

"Newt, darling, don't get too far ahead," she called, reaching out her fingers to try and touch his shoulder.

Newt slowed down slightly, allowing his mother to grab hold of him, his heart still beating rapidly. "Which carriage should I go on?"

Mother laughed a little, and ruffled his curly red-gold mop fondly. "Whichever you prefer, dear. It doesn't really matter much."

Another, more terrible thought occurred to Newt, and he glanced at his feet nervously, trying to resist stuttering. "W-will Dad and Thee hate me w-when I-I'm not s-s-sorted into Gryffindor?"

"They don't hate you, Newton, and if you're not a Gryffindor I doubt they'll much care. You'll still be Theseus's brother, and you'll still be Persy's son." Mother's voice was gentle, and he could hear the hint of sorrow in it. He wondered if she truly believed what she was saying.

The Hogwarts Express's whistle sounded, making the whole crowd flinch. Instantly, Newt's mother flew into high alert. "Newton, Theseus, you need to hurry and get on the train! We don't want it to leave without its finest pupils, do we?"

Theseus's chest swelled the way it always did when his mother complimented him. "Of course not, Mother. It would be a real shame."

"A real shame," Newt agreed, and they exchanged equally cheerful smirks. Theseus had been in a good mood all day, and he felt like they were young again, back when Thee hadn't acted like he hated him all the time.

Their father had come up behind them. He was smiling, looking oddly pleasant and almost happy, something that was highly unusual nowadays. He placed a hand on each of his boys' shoulders and squeezed. "Go on, you two. We don't have time to waste." Newt threw a smile at his father, who seemed to almost smile back, before the eleven-year-old ran forward, pushing his heavy cart as fast as he could toward the gleaming scarlet train. He could hear Theseus's heavier steps behind him, pushing his own cart.

They threw the trunks and cages on the train as quickly as one can while surrounded by crowds of young witches and wizards all trying to do the exact same thing. When they rushed back to their parents, Mother kissed them both on the head. "Now I expect both of you back for Christmas, no matter if I'm awake or not. Newt, don't be afraid of everything, make some friends. Theseus, be aware of your brother and look out for him. Now go!"

Newt gave her one last lingering hug before running onto the train for the last time. He turned to Theseus, cheeks still flushed with excitement. "Where should we sit, Thee?"

His brother opened his mouth, and it seemed like he was actually going to answer, but then he noticed the group of boys in front of him. Newt recognized them as Theseus's friends from school, and he knew then that he'd have to find his own seat. As he watched, his brother's face became cool and distant. "I don't care where you go, Newty. FInd some first years, and maybe try to make some friends like Mother said."

This was actual good advice, and he had a feeling it was what Thee would have said even if his friends weren't there, but the tone he said it in was so cold and condescending it sounded like an insult. Newt felt all the color drain from his cheeks along with his smile, and he walked down the corridor, peeking in to see if one was empty.

"Who was that, Thees?" asked one of the boys, sounding disgusted.

Theseus snorted. "My little brother. Mother told me to watch out for him, so I have to make sure he doesn't get in trouble, but she never said how close I should watch him, ammiright, boys?"

The teens all roared with laughter and began slapping each other on the back. Newt walked a little faster, and then noticed a nearly empty compartment with only a young girl about his age inside, with mocha skin and dark wavy hair. She seemed elegant and well-raised, and he suspected she was from one of the famous Slytherin pureblood families. He opened the door anyway, desperate to get away from his brother.

"Hullo," he said, glancing anywhere but her dark eyes. "Can I sit with you? My brother's being a bloody jerk, and I'd like to get away from him if I can."

He could feel her staring at him. Newt fidgeted nervously with the sleeve of his shirt, tugging at a loose thread. "Sure," she said, and he glanced up in surprise. "Come on, then. I'm Leta. Leta Lestrange."

Lestrange. He'd been right about the 'Slytherin pureblood family' bit, that was for sure. The Lestranges were on the list of families that he was Not Supposed to Talk To, but how was he supposed to know Leta wasn't different? She could have easily said he couldn't sit there if she'd wanted to. Perhaps she was just as lonely as he was. "I'm Newt Scamander. Are you a first year?"

"Yes," she replied, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear. "Scamander, hm? My father isn't fond of your family."

Newt raised an eyebrow to hide his sinking heart. "My father isn't fond your family, either, so I guess we're even."

Slowly, Leta Lestrange's face split into a wide grin. "What do you say about completely ignoring what our fathers have told us and being friends anyway, just to spite them? Not just friends— best friends. Hell, even if you're a Gryffindor, we'll be friends."

"I won't be in Gryffindor," Newt scoffed, "but you have a deal."

Leta's teeth were very white, and perfectly straight, except for the small chip in the corner of one of her front teeth. "Let's shake on it, then. We gotta make it official, after all, eh Newt Scamander, new best friend?"

Newt held out his hand without hesitation, despite feeling deep down like he might regret this later. "Absolutely, Leta."

Newt had never felt like he belonged more than when he was talking with Leta Lestrange. He'd mentioned his mother bred hippogriffs, and her face lit up like he'd never seen anyone else's do. "Hippogriffs? Oh, I'm jealous. I'd love to hang out with magical creatures all day. You must have the best mother in the whole world."

"I—" Newt felt like someone had slapped him on the face. He smiled slowly, wider than he'd smiled in weeks. "Yeah. She's pretty amazing. My dad and my brother don't really like it that we enjoy creatures more than humans, but we tend to just ignore them as much as possible." His smile faded as he remembered the long weeks when she'd just stare into the distance, not seeing anything. "Of course, sometimes it's easier said than done."

Leta was looking at him, but not with pity, like he'd expected. Instead she looked like she understood ccompletely. "My family doesn't like my penchant for creatures either. But I don't have an understanding mother to help me out."

They stared at each other. Normally, Newt hated staring someone in the eyes, but how could he look away from someone who understood him so completely? "Well," he said, feeling a little breathless, "now you have someone who understands. Someone who will help you out."

Now Leta was smiling too, her eyes shining. "No one's ever liked me for me before."

"Well, there's a first time for everything."

"Now, there are four houses at Hogwarts," said Professor Dumbledore. Newt liked him on instinct. "Gryffindor, which is the house I'm from, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. Each has its own values and common attributes, and each is a fine place to be sorted."

Next to him, Leta was shuffling her feet. He remembered that she'd told him on the train that there'd never been a Lestrange that hadn't been sorted into Slytherin. "And I know you're not a Slytherin, Newt. You'll probably be a Hufflepuff. I just hope we can be friends even if everyone else says we shouldn't."

"Don't worry," he'd told her. "I'll always be on your side."

The next minutes were a blur as Professor Dumbledore led the train of first years through the Great Hall and to the front of the mass of students. He could sense Theseus's eyes on him from the Gryffindor table and forced himself to stand a little straighter.

Leta's name was called before his, of course. She was shaking violently when she sat down on the stool and Professor Dumbledore gently placed the Sorting Hat on her head. It remained silent for almost a minute before the great rip that was its mouth opened and shouted one word to the entire school: "SLYTHERIN!"

Newt felt his heart sink a little, but put on a reassuring smile for her when she glanced sadly in his direction. Noticing this, Leta's eyes became a little less sad, and her back was straight and her eyes were shining when she sat down at the table. She ignored every cheer and pat on the back by her fellow Slytherins, instead focusing on Newt.

A little while later, the moment came that Newt had been dreading the instant they entered the castle. "Scamander, Newton!" called Professor Dumbledore.

Newt walked forward, his hands shaking, his steps unsteady. Theseus's eyes bore into his back. He sat down on the stool and stared at the mass of students watching him. He found his brother's gaze and saw that he looked almost angry, like he was daring Newt to defy expectations and actually get into Gryffindor like his father wanted.

The hat lowered onto his head.

"Ah," said the tiny voice in his ear, "another Scamander. Your family is really a powerful lot, aren't they? Of course, you've been underestimated your entire life. You're actually more powerful than your brother— not that you'd ever tell him that, oh no. A good friend, I see, and very, very kind… Leta Lestrange? That one could use a friend, poor thing. But never mind all that chit-chat. There's obviously only one place to put you, and that is… HUFFLEPUFF!" The Sorting Hat screamed the last word out to the Great Hall, and it was lifted from around his head a moment later.

Newt found Theseus's eyes. His brother didn't look surprised, but he didn't look disappointed either. In fact, he smiled a tiny smile and nodded his head at him as he ran to the yellow and black decorated table. The other Hufflepuffs smiled and clapped him on the back. "Welcome to Hufflepuff, Scamander!" one of them cried.

Newt lowered his head slightly and smiled. Maybe Hogwarts wouldn't be so bad after all.

 **Author's Note:**

 **Yay, two in one day! Like I said, I have plenty of time on my hands now that I don't have school. Plus writing this is better than writing 50 thank you cards, so... yeah.**

 **Let me know what you think!**

 **Trellya**


	3. Chapter 3

**Three: Professor Dumbledore**

Newt was three days into his first year at Hogwarts, and Newt could honestly say he loved it. While he didn't necessarily have any close friends within Hufflepuff, all of them were kind and respectful, and his prefect even showed him where all the books on magical creatures were in the library (even if it was a pitiful amount, and most of them were about how to kill them). And besides, he had his friend in Leta.

They spent all of their free time together, talking about magical creatures, mostly. They didn't talk about their families if they could help it, because talking about their families meant talking about pain and sorrow and anger and all those things that they didn't want to think about. In fact, they really tried to avoid any serious conversation. Newt didn't care— she was the first friend he'd ever had.

Today was his first day of Transfiguration. He had class with the Slytherins, which was a relief, because that meant he could sit with Leta. Their desk was in the center of the room, in between the tables with Slytherins on the left and the ones with Hufflepuffs on the right. The professor stood up and smiled at all of them, looking utterly cheerful. "Good morning, class. I'm Professor Dumbledore, and I'll be teaching you Transfiguration today. Now, I'll be honest, it's a pretty bloody difficult subject, but if you work hard, you'll do just fine. Alright! Let's get going then, shall we?"

Despite the fact most of the first class consisted of them writing down notes, Newt and the other students found themselves completely captivated. Dumbledore was an excellent teacher, and found ways to make even the most boring parts fascinating to learn. In the last part of class he passed out matches to them all. "Turn them into needles," he explained, as he turned the tiny piece of wood effortlessly into a thin, sharp silver needle with the wave of his wand.

Newt stared at his wand, then at the tiny match in front of him. Surely it couldn't be that difficult? Beside him, Leta was cursing under her breath as she tried and failed repeatedly. He tried to convince himself to wave his wand, but it felt like lead in his hands, so he just kept staring at the match, hoping it would turn into a needle on its own.

"Are you going to make an attempt, Mr. Scamander?" It was Professor Dumbledore, sounding rather amused.

"Er—" Newt shook himself and straightened his back. "Yes. Yes, I— yes."

Dumbledore set his feet and crossed his arms. He raised an eyebrow. "Well, let's see it then."

Summoning all the courage and magic he could muster, Newt waved his wand and muttered the incantation. The match shrank slightly, growing smooth, and before his eyes turned into a needle. In some places the metal had a woodgrain in it, and the point wasn't very sharp, but it was clearly a needle, and he'd done it on the first try. He slowly let himself break into a smile, and he glanced up at Professor Dumbledore, who looked very impressed.

"Excellent work, Mr. Scamander. Five points to Hufflepuff."

It wasn't until after he left the class and was walking down the hall, a bounce in his step, that he really realized what had happened. The rest of the class had taken forever to even make a single change to their matches, but Newt had done it on his first try. Dumbledore had given him some more to see if he could refine them, and after his third attempt the needles looked as fine as Professor Dumbledore's. That had earned him another five points for Hufflepuff, much to his excitement.

Of course, Leta had been very frustrated. By the end, she'd managed to get the match into a needle shape, but she couldn't seem to turn it into metal. The fact he was better at it than her had made her angry, so she'd ignored him after class, but Newt was so excited to be good at something he hardly cared.

The Sorting Hat's words seemed to echo in his head. _You're actually more powerful than your brother… not that you'd tell him that, oh no._ He'd never considered the possibility that he was powerful. Newt had never had grand instances of accidental magic like Theseus had. In fact, he'd shown so little magic as a young child his parents had worried he wasn't magical enough to get into Hogwarts. Now Newt was wondering if perhaps he simply had more control over his magic.

But honestly, he didn't care. Not only was Newt here, with a friend, but he was good at magic! He felt like he was flying.

Newt soon discovered it wasn't only Transfiguration he was skilled in. He excelled in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, too. He was also excellent in Herbology and Potions. The only class he didn't find overly was Flying, and even then he was far from the worst student in class. Leta, it turned out, was a natural in Defense and Potions, but the other classes she struggled more in. Once she realized she was just as good as him in at least a few of their classes, she became a little less angry, and allowed him to help her with her homework.

That being said, Transfiguration still became his favorite class. Dumbledore was a kind and devoted teacher, and constantly found ways to push Newt in class. Almost every time he entered the professor's classroom he would leave with a few points for Hufflepuff, much to his housemates' joy.

It was almost two months into classes when things changed.

"Newt," said Dumbledore. It hadn't taken the Professor long to start calling him by his first name. "If I could have a word with you after class."

Newt looked up, eyes wide, but nodded. Leta frowned at him. "What do you think he wants?" she asked, elbowing him in the side.

"Dunno," he said honestly, packing up his parchment, quill, and ink into his bag. "I hope I'm not in trouble."

She snorted. "Really, Newt? You're his favorite student. There's no way Professor Dumbledore could ever get mad at you. He's probably going to kiss your feet and give you more points, or something stupid like that."

Newt rolled his eyes and continued to pack all his things. After the other students all shuffled out of the classroom (Leta had taken a particularly long time, and had given him a meaningful look before finally leaving), he made his way to the front of the room, where Professor Dumbledore was sitting at his desk.

"What did you want to talk to me about, sir?"

Dumbledore looked up with a start, as though he'd forgotten he'd asked Newt to stay, but then a mischievous smile split across his face. "You're the most powerful wizard in your year, Newt. You know that, right? You're probably in the running for the most powerful wizard in the school, with your brother Theseus being another one in the top."

Newt swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly feeling very dry. "The— the Sorting Hat told me I was more powerful than Theseus. But— but d-don't tell him that, please," he said, panic suddenly bubbling in his chest. "He's been so nice to me this past month, and I don't want to ruin that—"

"Of course I won't say anything. In fact, I was wondering if you want to take some more advanced magic lessons with me every now and then. Oh, once a month, maybe twice if we're feeling particularly ambitious." Professor Dumbledore seemed genuinely excited by this idea. He couldn't stop smirking as he spoke.

Newt blinked. This was not what he'd expected to hear. "What would you teach me?"

Dumbledore waved a hand in dismissal. "Whatever we wanted to study, boy! You've got so much potential, and it would be wasted if I didn't help you further your studies. What do you say?"

"I—" He couldn't believe this was happening. Not long ago, things were bleak. Newt felt completely unloved, and he'd been convinced Hogwarts wouldn't be much better. And now he was being told by his favorite teacher that he was incredibly powerful and had great potential, and that he should be given additional classes. "I think I would really like that."

Dumbledore grinned even wider. "Excellent. Go and think up topics you want to learn more about, and we'll see what happens. I look forward to meeting with you. I'll contact you about our first lesson time on Halloween."

Newt nodded eagerly, then ran off. Halloween was in three days, which would hopefully give him plenty of time to find something that deserved extra classes to learn about.

•••

 _Dear Mother,_ Newt wrote at the top of the piece of parchment. Despite the fact he knew it was unlikely she would be reading them, he was doing his best to write his mother weekly letters. He knew Father was reading them, since he'd sent a letter of congratulations on his placement in Hufflepuff with references to specific lines in his letter to Mother. Honestly, Newt hoped that meant Father was reading them to Mother, but he wasn't about to ask that.

He was writing her now about the classes with Dumbledore. He knew both Mother and Father would be thrilled about this news, so he had to make every word perfect. The letter itself took him several tries to write, but in the end he thought it sounded good.

 _Dear Mother,_

 _I have wonderful news! My Transfiguration professor, Professor Dumbledore, has asked if I should like to take private additional classes to further my studies. He says I have great potential that shouldn't go to waste._

 _I have told him that I would love to, and I am supposed to come up with topics for our classes. If you have any recommendations, I would love to hear them._

 _Leta is well. We found a Doxy nest today while exploring, but I promise we were careful._

 _How are the Hippogriffs?_

 _Love from your son,_

 _Newton_

His hands only shook slightly as he attached the letter to Artemis and told her to take it home. As she flew off, he swallowed the lump in his throat. Father would be proud of him now. He knew it. Deep down, Newt wished he could believe it some day.

 **Author's Note:**

 **Here's chapter three! Since the nature of this fic is that it's basically one shots from the same universe in chronological order, there won't be a whole lot of a grand complicated plot. But it won't be completely aimless, I promise! I've already started to hint at unrest with Leta by letting her be a bit more of a bitch.**

 **I should have chapter four out soon (Friday? idk).**

 **Let me know what y'all think!**

 **Trellya**


	4. Chapter 4

**Four: Halloween**

Newt's "Hogwarts High" came crashing down the day of the Halloween feast. It had started out fine. In the morning at breakfast he'd been visited by Athena. He'd expected his father to write something, since it was something pretty big, but the real surprise was the fact that there was a letter from his mother, too. Newt smiled at the sight.

He opened his mother's letter first, hardly able to contain his excitement.

 _Dearest Newton,_

 _I'm so incredibly proud of you! When I woke up this morning your father showed me all the letters you've been sending me. I would ask that you continue to send them, as they made my day so wonderful._

 _I should have known you'd exceed even my expectations. After all, you are my son. Professor Dumbledore is a fine man, and he will make sure you learn many important things. You could ask him about anything, Newt, darling. Even about magical creatures, though you might sometimes know more than he does. Just enjoy yourself._

 _I'm pleased to hear Theseus has been good to you, and that you've found a friend with common interests. If things were different, I should love to meet her._

 _I love you,_

 _Mother_

Newt hugged the letter to his chest. It was the first response he'd received from her since the start of the school year. He was glad to know she approved of Leta. If she hadn't, Newt wasn't sure what he would have done. He turned his eyes to his father's letter next.

His hands shook as he broke the seal and unfolded the thick parchment.

 _Newton,_

 _I will admit I was surprised by the news in your latest letter, but for once the surprise was welcome._

 _Albus Dumbledore is one of the finest minds the wizarding world has ever seen, and I am sure you will learn a great deal from him. Be sure to work on your knowledge of other wizarding communities around the world._

 _If possible, inquire if Theseus could obtain these lessons as well. I have written your brother and told him you will ask about it for him._

 _I am proud of you, son. Don't disappoint me._

 _Father_

Newt let out the breath he'd been holding. This was far better than he'd hoped for. His eyes kept drifting to the same line over and over again. _I am proud of you, son._ Newt wasn't sure his father had ever told him he was proud of him before.

Of course, there was the issue of Theseus.

He'd actually already asked Dumbledore if Theseus could take lessons already, but his professor had made it clear that his brother, despite having power and potential, didn't have the same spirit that Dumbledore had been drawn to. "You remind me of myself," Dumbledore had exlained. "Theseus reminds me of someone I'd rather not be reminded of."

Now Newt was going to have to handle his brother, who would probably be jealous that his freak baby brother was getting special treatment by one of his favorite professors. He glanced up and over to the Gryffindor table, wincing when he noticed Theseus was already staring at him hopefully. Upon their eye contact, the older boy got to his feet and actually came over to the table, still holding the letter from their father in his hand.

"Hullo, little brother. How has your first year been so far?" He was talking as though they were the best of chums instead of brothers that barely spoke to each other.

Newt's grip on his fork tightened so his knuckles shone white beneath his skin. "Being nice to me isn't going to do anything, Thee. I've already asked Professor Dumbledore if he'd give you lessons too, and he said no."

Theseus snorted. "I don't believe you. I'll bet you didn't even ask him, and you just don't want to share the only good thing that's ever happened to you with me." His kind, cheerful facade was fading quickly.

"How could you say that? I _wanted_ to share this with you, but he said that he didn't feel you'd have the right attitude about the whole thing, and that's that." Newt was shocked his voice wasn't shaking at all, but these past two months had taught him a lot about being confident in yourself.

Then he looked up and saw the ugly look on his brother's face, and he shrank into himself. "You're a rotten little liar, Newty. I'm going to ask Professor Dumbledore myself, and I'm going to do my damndest to make sure you never actually get those lessons. Try explaining _that_ to Father, eh?"

"Thee—" He tried to say, but he was already gone.

Several hours later, Newt was walking the secluded corridors to find the meeting place Leta had whispered to him during breakfast. There wasn't a person in sight, not even a ghost, and honestly he was okay with that. Peeves had dropped a load of cold water on him earlier, and he was still wet from the encounter, since he hadn't had time to change and nobody had had mercy on him and dried his clothes.

" _Petrificus Totalus!_ " Shouted someone.

The spell hit Newt directly in the back, and his arms and legs instantly locked together as his forward momentum made him fall flat on his face. Newt felt his nose snap and begin to gush blood.

Out of the shadows walked Theseus, surrounded by his overzealous Gryffindor friends. One of the bigger ones kicked Newt in the side to make him turn over onto his back. He laughed at the sight of the blood on his already wet robes. "Your brother really is pathetic, Thees. You're sure he's the one getting lessons from Dumbledore?"

"Exactly, Harv. That's exactly the point of all this." Theseus's voice was colder than it had ever been before. With a wave of his brother's wand, Newt's body unlocked.

He began to crawl backward, blood still running down his face. "Thee, please… I tried to convince him, I really did, but Dumbledore—"

"Shut _up_ , Newty. I know you think you're better at magic than me, but you're sorely mistaken. If I were weaker, could I do this? _Tarantallegra!_ " Newts legs began to dance uncontrollably, so no matter what he did, he couldn't seem to stand up. " _Flipendo!_ " He was thrown back several feet into the wall, hard enough to make him see stars. As soon as his head began to settle, Newt began to cry out for help, hoping a teacher would hear and come running.

One of Theseus's friends drew his wand. "We need to shut him up before a teacher shows up. _Silencio!_ " Newt's voice vanished in an instant. He began to sob, though the sobs made no sound. "How much of a lesson do you want to teach him, Thees? You know we're down for anything."

Newt stared up at his brother, his legs still moving of their own accord, blood on his face and his head spinning from when it hit the wall. "Please," he said, hoping Theseus would be able to read his lips.

His brother's eyes grew even colder, so he could hardly even recognize Theseus as the boy he'd grown up with. "Let's beat him up a little bit. Nothing he won't recover from, though." Around him, the Gryffindor boys began cracking their knuckles and grinning. Newt braced himself.

The first kick knocked the wind out of him. After that, the kicks and punches came so fast he couldn't even count them. His whole body was in agony, and it wasn't until Theseus was telling them that was enough that he realized that his legs had stopped twitching. He lay there, too exhausted and too in pain to move a muscle, as they all walked off as though nothing had happened.

When his crying still failed to produce a sound, Newt realized they'd left the silencing spell on him to ensure they wouldn't be caught until after they were long gone. Part of him wanted to give up, to lay there covered in his own blood until someone found him, but instead he forced himself to stand up.

He wrapped a hand around his ribs. It didn't help with the pain at all, but it made him feel a little better. Newt began to walk, forcing every step he took, limping heavily, limbs heavy. Tears continued to stream from his face, but he kept on going. He was going to get to the Hospital Wing all by himself, no matter how long it took.

Would Leta realize he wasn't coming? Would she look for him? He hoped so. Each step was getting harder and harder, and he was starting to doubt he could make it all the way to the Hospital Wing without collapsing. No. Focus. He had to focus. Left foot. Right foot. Breath in, carefully. Left foot. Right foot. Breath out.

"Oh, Merlin— Newt!"

Newt heard the shout, but he kept walking, eyes focused on the ground in front of him as he continued to make his way to the Hospital Wing. It wasn't until Professor Dumbledore appeared in front of him that he realized who had spoken.

"Newt, what happened? Who did this to you?"

Newt opened his mouth and said "Theseus," but of course there was no sound.

A hint of horror appeared in Dumbledore's eyes. "My god, they even took your voice?" He waved his hand, and Newt could feel the sound rushing back to him. "We must get you to the Hospital Wing." The professor scooped him up as though it weren't an issue, and Newt squeaked in pain. Then, as he realized he was going to be safe now, he began to cry.

"My brother—" He whispered, voice thick and slurred.

Dumbledore looked down sharply. "He did this to you? He and his good-for-nothing friends?"

Newt nodded slowly. His head was aching worse than ever from when it hit the wall, and his breathing was getting harder and harder thanks to his ribs. His eyes felt heavy. He just wanted to sleep for a little while.

"Don't go to sleep, Newt," Dumbledore said, his voice so sharp that it made Newt feel wide awake again. "Not until Madam Jubilee can fix you up."

They'd reached the Hospital Wing, and the matron was running out, her face rather pale. "Good lord, Albus, what happened to the poor boy? He looks like he was beaten half to death!"

"As far as I can tell, that's what happened," Professor Dumbledore said seriously.

Madam Jubilee bit her lip and drew her wand. "According to the diagnostic spell, he's got a concussion, a broken nose, two cracked ribs, and far too many bruises. He shows signs of other spells being performed on him, too, including the silencing charm. Albus, who would use the silencing charm on a student so they couldn't cry out for help?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I'd ask Mr. Scamander when he wakes up."

How his teacher knew Newt didn't know, but Newt was indeed swimming as he tried to stay awake. After a few seconds, he decided to give in to the darkness. He was safe now. Theseus wouldn't dare hurt him here.

When Newt woke up, he wasn't in pain anymore. His ribs didn't feel broken anymore, and his head no longer felt like it was about to explode. His nose seemed normal, too. The matron was truly a miracle worker.

He glanced to the side and saw to his pleasure that Leta was sitting there, looking rather worried as she stared at her hands. "Hello."

She looked up, and her face slipped into a relieved smile. "Newt! I was waiting for you, but you never showed up, and then when Theseus and his crew passed me I got worried, because he seemed really mad at you at breakfast this morning, but I still couldn't find you anywhere, and then I found Professor Dumbledore, and he said you were in the Hospital Wing—"

"Leta," he interrupted, "How long have I been out?"

She thought for a moment. "A few hours."

They sat in silence for a while, not able to think of anything to say. Finally, Newt sat up a little, wincing at the residual pain in his ribs. "I'm glad you're here, Leta."

"Yeah," she said, smiling. Then her eyes darkened. "I only wish I'd been there when they assaulted you and beat you half to death. I can assure you next time they won't find it so easy."

Suddenly, Professor Dumbledore sat down in the chair next to Leta's. "You're correct, Ms. Lestrange, because the first thing I am going to teach him in our lessons is how to defend yourself and how to duel. I know you're not the fighting type, Newt, but sometimes even the most unwilling must learn in order to stay alive."

"Yes, sir," Newt said.

As he stared at the Hospital Wing before him, he wished that he could have gone a little longer before his brother crushed all the happiness he'd managed to gain for himself in the past two months. It was already hard enough for him to let loose. Now, it would be even harder.

And now he wouldn't even be able to go to the Halloween Feast.

Feeling a little stupid, he began to cry as two of the only people that cared about him watched. Why couldn't he ever have anything good in his life without someone in his family tearing it away from him?

 **Author's Note:**

 **Well, here's chapter four. It's much darker than the others. I want Theseus to grow up and be a good brother already, but unfortunately that's not going to happen for a couple years. But I promise he won't get any worse than this.**

 **I hope everyone is in character. If Dumbledore seems a little wild it's because he's much younger than we've ever seen him and has much less self control and wisdom guiding his actions. That being said, he really loves Newt and is going to look out for him as much as he can.**

 **Also, yeah, I invented a new matron, since Madam Pomfrey is probably in school at this point.**

 **Let me know what you think!**

 **Trellya**


	5. Chapter 5

**Five: Holidays**

There were three days until Newt had to go back home for Christmas and pretend that he and Theseus were still on speaking terms. After he'd gotten out of the hospital wing, he'd begged Professor Dumbledore not to tell the Headmaster what had happened. To his relief, Dumbledore had agreed, but only because he apparently knew Phineas Nigellus Black would never punish Theseus Scamander, one of the Golden Boys of Hogwarts. Instead, his professor had had a very serious talking-to with Newt's older brother.

Theseus had gotten a month of detentions, but he was to tell everyone they were private classes to extend his education. Apparently, the detentions often included little lessons on tidbits he wouldn't have learned otherwise— just enough to convince his brother not to say anything.

Newt, meanwhile, was having real classes. It was all duelling and defense work, at the moment. Dumbledore had told him more than once that what had happened to him on Halloween would never happen again, not if he could help it. Already, he was improving, though he still wasn't excellent. The problem was he didn't want to hurt anyone. He was getting very good at some simple defense spells, but the offensive ones were still abysmal.

"You need to understand that if you don't hurt people sometimes, they'll hurt you, or even kill you, Newt." Dumbledore told him this over and over, but he still could never quite manage any of the jinxes or hexes that he was being taught. He wondered if he was truly that hopeless at that aspect of magic.

Newt was a little terrified about going home, partly because he was worried about what Theseus might say to Father, but also because he had no way of knowing if his mother was going to be awake for any of the break. She might not notice they were there until the day they left, or might not realize at all.

He had a feeling that the opening of Christmas presents was going to happen the instant his mother recognized them, and if that didn't happen, on the last day before they went back to Hogwarts. It wasn't going to be a very happy Christmas.

"Are you excited to see your parents, Newt?" Leta asked that day at lunch.

He hesitated. "Not really."

She smirked, but he could see that same hollow sadness that showed up every time they talked about their families. "Don't worry, you're not alone. I'd stay at Hogwarts if I could, but Father made it clear I was to come home and join in the _festivities_. I'll be ridiculed all bloody break."

"My mother might not even recognize us. She normally doesn't, these days. Since she's the only member of my family that actually loves me, it's… hard." He'd never actually admitted to her that his mother was sick. He'd hinted that she wasn't well, but he'd never told Leta that Mother was sick mentally, not physically (although her mental illness did lead to her being horribly thin). "When she's awake, she tries, but there's nothing she can do when she's lost to the world."

Leta, for the first time in their friendship, was looking at him with real pity. He hated it. That wasn't why he'd told her. He'd told her so he could get it off his chest and not feel like Mother was some dirty secret he wasn't allowed to speak of. He'd told her so he could stop worrying about it and she could tell him that it would be alright.

She didn't tell him that. "I'm sorry, Newt. That's awful."

He turned away, the pain in his heart heavier instead of lighter, like he'd hoped.

The train ride back to King's Cross was nowhere near as lighthearted as the ride over. Both he and Leta were consumed by their thoughts of having to deal with their families, and Newt didn't have enough conversational skills to draw them out of the funk. He'd never been good at faking things, either, so he couldn't even pretend to be more cheerful than he was.

The instant he stepped of the train and onto the platform and realized that Theseus and his father were alone, that Mother wasn't there with him, his day became far, far worse. Father didn't look angry at him, which was good, but he could tell that he was still the less-loved son. It was likely nothing he ever did would change that.

"Newton." That was it. No 'welcome home,' no 'I missed you,' just his name spoken in the most neutral tone possible.

All the confidence he'd gained at Hogwarts was draining away. His hands started to fidget. "H-hello, Father. H-how's M-mother?" When he saw the disappointment start to blossom on his father's face at the sound of his stuttering, he looked down to the platform, eyes burning.

"She's about as can be expected, nowadays. Shall we go home?"

Theseus grinned like the little politician he was grabbed his trunk. "Yes, Father, let's go home. I've rather missed the place."

Father and Theseus walked through Platform 9 3/4 almost cheerfully after that, talking about anything and everything. Their conversation was natural, and it was clear that the two loved each other deeply, in the way a father and son should. As Newt followed them, his head hung low, he felt like a stranger in his own family.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Leta, a woman's long-fingered hand sinking in to her shoulder, very fake smiles on all of their faces. She saw him walking by, saw that his mother wasn't there, and let herself look sad for a second. Newt looked away before he got in trouble.

The day before Christmas Eve, Newt woke to the smell of sausage cooking. _Mother_ , he thought, smiling as he laid on his bed. At least one day of this break would be happy (The previous days had been silent, with neither Father nor Theseus speaking to him, so he'd spent the time with the hippogriffs instead). He ran downstairs a second later, a grin on his face, and tackle-hugged her from behind. She laughed as she steadied herself, and Newt revelled in it.

"Hello, darling. Breakfast is almost ready— why don't you sit down and tell me everything that wasn't in your letters?"

Before he knew it, Newt was babbling about all the quests he and Leta had gone on through the grounds and the castle itself to try and find any magical creatures, how amazing and kind Professor Dumbledore was, how good he was in classes. He was careful to avoid the subject of the Hospital Wing, because that would lead to questions he didn't know how to answer, and of the actual contents of the private lessons, instead choosing to paint as positive of a picture as possible. He didn't want Mother to worry about him while she was awake.

By the time he finished, Father and Theseus were down, and breakfast was ready. It was a proper feast, and they acted like a real family, teasing each other and having fun. It really felt like Christmas.

After breakfast, they opened presents, just like Newt had predicted. It might not have really been Christmas Day, but they knew full well how unlikely it was she would recognize them any time for the remainder of break, and they had to take advantage of the time they had with her.

Newt had gotten all of his family a present, though he knew only Mother would care. For his brother he'd gotten a book on advanced dueling spells that Dumbledore had recommended specifically for the elder Scamander. _Theseus has the power to do great things, if he has the proper tools_ , he'd said. When Newt told him this, the stony look Thee had worn for the last month melted away slightly, his cheeks flushing with pleasure. For Father he had a picture of himself with Dumbledore, as well as a note that his professor had insisted he give to the man. It went on and on about his potential and how much of a pleasure it was to have such a skilled boy in his care. Frankly, it was embarassing, but Father seemed almost pleased.

For Mother, he'd convinced Leta to get into a picture with him. They were both beaming, wearing the filthy clothes they'd been exploring the grounds in. If you watched long enough, the image of Leta would push Newt away from her, laughing, after he elbowed her in the side. The frame was handmade by Newt himself out of wood he'd filched from the groundskeeper's woodpile. There were little carvings of various creatures on it, rather crude in some cases, but always recognizable. She loved it, actually cried when she saw it.

He wasn't looking forward to opening his own presents, since he rarely got anything good from anyone except Mother. All the same, he opened them anyway. Father had gotten him a book called _Challenging Spells for Promising Young Wizards._ "I thought Dumbledore could teach you a few of the ones in there," he'd explained. "This private lessons thing can't be put to waste." It was the most thoughtful gift his father had ever gotten him, and even then it was only because he finally thought his son might have some sort of value.

Theseus had gotten him some film for his camera. The camera itself was something Thee had given him the year he'd gone off to Hogwarts. Back then, Mother hadn't been sick, and Newt and Theseus got along rather well. He'd taken dozens of pictures, mostly of him and Mother with the hippogriffs, and he'd shown them all to his brother. Ever since then, he'd always gotten film for the camera as gifts from him, but Newt didn't mind.

"Thanks, Thee," he told his brother, and he truly meant it.

His brother shifted awkwardly. "I know how much you love pictures, and I know you can't afford the film by yourself, so…"

Newt smiled at him, remembering the day he'd had to say goodbye to his brother at King's Cross Station for the first time. Tears had been streaming down his face, his nose running with snot. He'd looked every inch the distraught little brother. "Don't cry, Newty," his brother had said, back when Newty was said with affection instead of disgust and a sneer, "I've got you a gift. It's a camera, see? So you can take pictures of everything that happens when I'm not there, and you can show me all of them when I come back for holidays. Sounds, good, yeah?"

Little eight-year-old Newt had nodded, sniffling pathetically. Theseus had hugged him, and then he'd gotten on the train. Even after his brother started to treat him worse and worse, he still took pictures for him. Even after Theseus told him angrily last year at Easter that he "didn't want to see your bloody pictures, Newty," Newt had continued to take the pictures for him, in the hope that one day his brother would want to see them again.

He'd taken some at Hogwarts, too, even though his brother was there. They'd been added to the thick photo album along with the rest, and with any luck Theseus would ask to see them before he had to get a new one. Then again, he might be thinking a little unrealistically.

Then came his mother's gift. Apparently they'd had similar thoughts, because she'd gotten him a picture of the two of them in the hippogriff paddock. Newt was only eight in the picture, his eyes bright and gleaming happily, his hair being ruffled by Mother's hand. As he watched, little Newt grabbed his mother's hand while it was messing with his hair and looked up, his face full of love, adoration, and an innocence that made his heart hurt. The frame was made of what he recognized as pieces of one of the worn hippogriff paddocks and was carved with images of feathers from the creatures. When he turned over the frame, he saw she'd written a note.

 _Dearest Son,_

 _As long as you have this picture, you'll always have my smile._

 _No matter where you go, picture or not, you'll always have my love._

 _Mother_

Newt gently touched the words. They'd been burned in to the back of the frame with the tip of her wand. His mother's handwriting was neat but fluid, full of loops and flourishes but always consistent in the formation of each letter. It was beautiful but reliable, sensible but joyous. Just like Mother herself.

"Thank you," he whispered, tears in his eyes. "I'll keep it forever."

Mother smiled and grabbed his hand. "You're very welcome, Newt." He could sense her joy, as well as the sadness and fear that had been growing stronger every time she had a good day. Eventually, he knew, she wouldn't have good days anymore, and they would have to decide whether to simply let her go or not, but for now they all focused on making sure she could do as much during her good days as possible.

After a quick cold lunch, Father and Theseus began to talk magical and muggle politics (a subject that had become more interesting in the past few years as the muggle world began to grow closer to a war). Newt went with Mother to the hippogriffs.

"Your father gave the workers the holidays off, since he knew you'd be home and you'd want to care for them yourself," she said out of the blue as they started hauling food to each of the beautiful creatures.

Newt nodded to himself. He'd suspected as much. "Are they good? Have you met them?"

Mother nodded stiffly, then used a charm to fill the troughs with fresh water. "I have. They do a good job, though I do wish it wasn't necessary. I hate that I can't do everything myself anymore."

"I'm sorry," he said, mostly because he didn't know what else he _could_ say.

Mother sighed, and looked down at her hands. "I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this. I'm only getting weaker and weaker, soon I won't be able to help the hippogriffs even on a good day. I— I'm scared."

Newt stared at her.

"I'm only going to get worse, and even though the workers are doing wonderfully, I don't think I can handle the thought of my hippogriffs being raised entirely without me." Her voice was fragile, swollen with emotion. "I'd rather not have any hippogriffs at all."

He felt his eyes widen with horror. "You're going to sell them? You can't!"

Mother looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. "I have to, darling. I don't want to, never think that I want to, but it's not fair to them to never see me anymore. They'd be far happier elsewhere."

Newt couldn't help it— he began to cry, big heaving sobs that were not appropriate for a boy his age, but he couldn't stop himself. Through all the hardships of not having Mother present, there had always been the hippogriffs, his mother's beloved creatures, with whom he could connect to. Now he wouldn't even have them. "When?"

"I haven't decided yet. Not for a little while. Maybe this summer."

His tears were slowing now, but he still felt horribly betrayed. "What will I do without them? They're my friends."

She sighed. "I know, Newt, and I'm sorry, but don't you see it's better this way? They're already so terribly unhappy without either of us around. If they go somewhere else, they'll be better."

He knew she was telling the truth. All of the hippogriffs' feathers had lost their shine, and he knew that meant they were sad. They missed Mother, he knew, and they missed him, too. Maybe… "You're right," he said softly, stroking one's head, "but I still don't like it."

Mother clapped her hands together. "Look what I've done, making you so sad at Christmas! Let's go inside and get dinner ready, shall we?" Newt nodded and followed her, grabbing hold of her hand, but he knew it would be a while before he'd be able to smile again today.

Dinner started out fine, but went downhill the second Father started to ask Newt about his classes with Dumbledore. "What have you learned so far, son?" he asked, wiping his mouth with his napkin and returning it to his mouth.

"Well," Newt said, his voice blessedly steady, "we've been focusing on defense charms mostly, but just before break we started to get into offensive magic. Just simple things so far, stuff I could actually use in a duel if I was ever in one."

"Defense charms, eh? Interesting first choice for a Transfiguration professor." Father still looked rather pleased.

Newt shifted nervously, and he found himself speaking before he could think through his explanation. "Well, he insisted on it after the attack."

Theseus stiffened, his hands clenching into fists. His eyes were cold as ice, and if their parents noticed his fury there would little either of them could do to explain anything away, but thankfully Mother and Father were both fixated on Newt. "Attack?" Mother said, her voice high-pitched and frightened. "Who? Were you hurt?"

"It was just some boys from Slytherin," Newt lied. Theseus relaxed, and his face slipped back into something more acceptable. "They heard me talking to Dumbledore about it after class and decided that I shouldn't think I was special."

Mother's eyes narrowed. "Were. You. Hurt?" She believed him. That was a relief, he had never been the best at lying.

Newt shifted. He felt more nervous now. Theseus had never found out how much damage he'd done to his little brother, and he wasn't sure he wanted him to find out. "I-it wasn't that bad—"

"Newt, if you were hurt, you should tell us." Father scolded, but he also looked mildly concerned. He hadn't looked so concerned since he was a small boy and had nearly died of dragon pox.

Theseus swallowed thickly. "Yeah, little brother. Tell us." His eyes were still cold and angry, but there was a hint of worry and guilt there, too.

"There were boys of different years there," he whispered. The memory of his brother's cold eyes as he and his friends beat him flashed before him, and he winced. "T-they made my legs dance, so I c-couldn't run away, and they cast the S-s-silencing Charm so I couldn't cry out f-for help. And then they beat me. Madam Jubillee, the matron, told me I had a concussion, a broken nose, two cracked ribs, and a lot of bruises. Dumbledore gave them a month of detention when he found out, and he p-promised me he'd teach me to defend myself."

Mother was on the verge of tears. She had her hands over her mouth, and she was shaking her head over and over. Father looked legitimately upset now, and Newt remembered his mother telling him months ago that his father didn't hate him, but he was so similar to Mother that it pained him. Perhaps she was right. "What sort of cowardly beast casts the Silencing Charm on an eleven year old boy?" he asked, a growl in his voice.

Theseus's eyes were wide, and he looked shocked. He must not have realized how badly they'd hurt him. At his father's venomous words, he even flinched. Newt noticed him stare down at his hands and force them out of the fists they'd formed themselves into.

"I'm very glad Albus Dumbledore is there to look after you," Mother said. "I should write him tonight and thank him for everything. He seems like a good man."

Newt nodded, smiling at the thought of the young professor. "He is."

Other than that, the rest of the dinner— indeed, the rest of the day— went well. It wasn't the best Christmas he'd ever had, but it was far from the worst. Newt hoped that maybe after he got back to Hogwarts his father would write him regularly again. He hoped Leta would still want to be his friend.

He hoped Theseus would want to be like a brother again.

Then again, some dreams were truly only meant to be fantasies.

 **Author's Note:**

 **Sorry this took so long, but it's the longest chapter yet, so there's that at least, right?**

 **I hate making poor little Newt so unhappy... all I want is for everyone to love him!**

 **Unfortunately, that's not going to happen for a while, especially with Theseus, but we'll get there. Promise. I hope to get to the point where the brothers can actually talk and love each other like proper brothers. It's going to be a long process, though.**

 **Let me know what you think of this chapter, and what your predictions for the future are! There's a big jump in time between this chapter and the next one, so I'll let you figure out how much that is.**

 **Until next time,**

 **Trellya**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: Birthday**

"Happy birthday, Newt!" Leta grinned as she dropped a package poorly wrapped in yellow and black striped paper on his breakfast.

He jumped in surprise, his head snapping up to see his best friend's triumphant look. "Leta, I didn't think you'd—" he trailed off hesitantly.

Leta's smile lost a little of its luster. "Of course I got you something. You're my best friend, Newt. You—you're my only friend. I've never even had the chance to get a present for a friend before, you know?"

Newt felt the color rise in his cheeks. "It's just... I've never had any friends to _give_ me presents."

Her fears assuaged, Leta forced herself onto the already packed Hufflepuff bench, much to the irritation of the people next to them. She was grinning again, her Slytherin tie loose around her neck. "Well, what are you waiting for? Open it!"

Newt felt himself smile too, and he picked up the package, now damp from grease, and ripped open the paper to reveal a beautifully painted picture of a hippogriff. As he watched, it struck its hooves against the ground and flapped its majestic grey wings. "It's beautiful, Leta," he breathed. "I love it."

"Really?"

He looked up, eyes shining. "Really."

Leta pushed a bit of hair behind her ear. "Do you think your family will get you anything?"

The happiness of the hippogriff painting was wearing off, leaving a knot of anxiety in his stomach. "I dunno. If Mother is awake she'll send me something, and I suppose Father and I are on decent terms at the moment, but I honestly don't know."

"You don't think Theseus will get you anything?"

Newt laughed harshly. "No."

Just then came the usual slight commotion as the mail arrived, owls swooping in elegantly with letters in their clutches. Instead of looking for his family's owl, he kept his eyes fixed on his bacon, hands clutching each other as his heart beat ever faster.

Leta grabbed his hand. "Look, Newt, you've got a present!"

He looked up, and saw two owls sitting before him, a large package between them. With a shaking hand, he grabbed the note taped to the top.

 _Dear Newton,_

 _Happy twelfth birthday. Mother and I have both included our gifts for you._

 _Please continue with your excellent academic work, especially concerning your lessons with Albus Dumbledore._

 _Remember to be careful, so those Slytherin boys do not continue to provoke you. Mother and I wouldn't want you to be hurt unnecessarily._

 _Mother said to tell you and Theseus hello the last time she was up._

 _Have a good day,_

 _Father_

Newt stared at the letter in disbelief. It was probably the nicest letter he'd ever received from his father, although he was disappointed that Mother hadn't been able to write. He reached for the parcel in front of him, noting how large it was. What could his parents possibly have gotten him?

"Well," Leta said gently, "are you going to open it?"

He tore into the brown paper, to reveal two objects. The first was a thick book titled _Kneazles, Crups, and Puffskiens: Everything You Should Know about Wizarding Pets._ It was obviously from Mother, and as he lifted the cover he saw she'd written a note.

 _My dear son:_

 _For you, in the hopes your love for magical creatures will never die._

 _Love you lots,_

 _Mother_

Newt smiled at her neat handwriting, touching the dried ink gently, before turning to his father's gift, which had been wrapped in an old pair of Theseus' socks to protect it. He carefully unwrapped the object, and found himself staring at a brand new Sneakoscope. "Merlin's beard," he muttered, turning it over in his hands. "This is a nice one— these are expensive!"

Leta snorted. "Well, it is a birthday present, and he doesn't exactly hate you, does he?"

"Well, I—I mean, he used to, until Dumbledore took an interest in me. My guess is this is because I told him about the attack."

Her eyes widened. "You told them that Th—"

"No!" Newt interrupted, glancing around at the other Hufflepuffs surrounding him. "Of course not. I, uh, I told him some Slytherin boys did it. Father hates Slytherins, you know."

Leta, however, didn't look offended. "Well, the way your brother and his stupid friends acted, you'd think they were from Slytherin. It was awfully cowardly, not something you'd expect from the high-and-mighty Gryffindors."

Newt ducked his head nervously, his ginger hair falling in front of his eyes. "Yes, well, all I really care about is that they haven't bothered me since. Father said he thought it was atrocious behavior and showed true cowardice, and Theseus has always looked up to Father's opinion more than anyone else's. He won't dare do anything like that again, I think."

"Good," Leta growled. "If he does, there won't be anything left of him for anybody to find."

Later that day, Newt was walking to Transfiguration when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

It was Theseus, who looked quite awkward and rather ashamed of himself. His cheeks were flushed and his left hand kept pulling down the sleeve of his robe. His right hand was holding a small package.

"Oh, hello, Theseus," Newt said warily, his hand unconsciously drifting to his wand. He might have told Leta that he didn't expect any more trouble from his brother, but a part of himself was still too frightened to completely trust him.

Theseus seemed to notice the action, because the shame on his cheeks grew brighter. "I—I'm not here to fight or anything, Newt. I'm here to apologize."

Newt blinked uncomprehendingly. "What?"

"I hadn't realized—And then Father—And you didn't even tell—" His brother paused and took a deep breath, obviously collecting himself. "I was angry, and stupid, and jealous, and I hurt you. I hurt you bad. But you didn't even say anything to them, when that would've... Well, I was an idiot. I never wanted to hurt you that much, to nearly kill you."

Newt had never seen Theseus look so unsure about his own words. Normally his brother had a confident air about him that paired nicely with his glowing smile. Seeing his brother be unable to look him in the eye, to wring his hands and stumble over his words—it reminded Newt of himself.

He cleared his throat, and Theseus's rambling fell silent. "I forgive you, Thee."

Theseus looked utterly speechless. "I—here's your birthday present. Uh, happy birthday, and, um, I'll just leave you alone now." And then he was gone, leaving Newt staring at the small poorly wrapped package.

It didn't appear to be the usual gift of camera film, which made him a little nervous. What could his brother have gotten him?

As he tore open the paper, Newt's breath caught in his throat. It was a hippogriff's claw, probably shed by one of theirs at home, with a tiny hole at the top and a thin gold chain strung through to make it a necklace. He slipped it around his neck immediately, the claw curling down toward his heart.

He smiled, pressing the pad of his finger against the sharp point. "Thanks, Thee," he whispered to no one, alone in a hallway bustling with students, and yet he'd never felt more loved in all his life.

 **Hello! Yes! I am alive!**

 **I have seen Crimes of Grindelwald three times so far, and enjoyed it (though it does have its flaws— don't get me started) so much that it destroyed my writer's block! yay!**

 **With any luck updates will actually continue to happen now instead of vanishing forever.**

 **Trellya**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: Say Goodbye**

Newt gripped his owl's cage tightly, his suitcase crammed full of clothes and textbooks in his other hand. The soft hoots from Athena kept him from drifting off into his own world as he scanned the crowded platform for his family. Leta stood next to him, her presence quietly comforting.

Suddenly, Newt spotted the dark-haired top of his father's head, as well as the slightly shorter, slightly thicker head of his brother. Sighing, Newt stepped into the throng, well aware of Leta's sad gaze watching him as he left her alone by the train. They both had noticed a distinct lack of curly red-gold hair, meaning Mother wasn't here.

Then again, judging from Father's occasional letters, Mother hadn't been aware since before his birthday, and that was in February. Newt had a sneaking suspicion there wouldn't be many more times for her to recognize the world around her.

"Hello, Newty," Theseus said, sounding less subdued than the last time they'd spoken, which was on his birthday. Newt suddenly was very aware of how visible the hippogriff claw Theseus had given him was against his shirt. He could feel his brother's gaze drifting to it.

Newt's hand twitched up to the claw, running his finger down the smooth curve to calm himself. He'd been doing that more and more lately, as he rarely took the necklace off. "Hi, Theseus."

Their father cleared his throat. "Well, we ought to get going. Mother arranged for the buyer to come tomorrow that you're home, Newton, and there's much to arrange tonight before that happens."

"Buyer?"

Father raised a dark eyebrow. "I thought she discussed selling the hippogriffs with you? She told me she had."

Oh. Newt's heart sank. "I—yes, she did, but I didn't realize it would be so soon. I thought I'd get most of the summer with them, since I'll be home to care for them."

Father motioned for his sons to follow him through to the Muggle part of King's Cross, before speaking, his voice much lower this time to avoid attention from the Muggles bustling around them. "That was her plan, yes, but the buyer told her he wished to have them as soon as possible, or else he wouldn't go through with it. It's hard to find a buyer for twenty-seven high-bred hippogriffs, you know. And of course, she didn't know if there would be another time for her to negotiate, so there wasn't a choice, really."

"How—how is Mother?" Theseus asked, his voice fragile from fear.

Their father was silent for a moment, which seemed to stretch off into infinity. "Not good. I had a healer come last week, and she—" his voice cracked. Newt was suddenly terrified. Such a show of emotion was rare for his father. "—she doesn't think Celestia will last the summer."

How was it so easy for his father to introduce two life-altering pieces of news within minutes of each other? Now he was not only losing his hippogriffs, his oldest friends, but he was finally losing his mother?

Father guided them into a quiet corner and grabbed their hands, and suddenly they were home, as he had Apparated them away from King's Cross station and back to their manor. And yet, Newt didn't know if it would ever be home to him without Mother.

Father turned to them, and actual tears were in his eyes. "I'm sorry, boys."

Newt burst into tears and ran outside, to see the hippogriffs.

"You must be Newton? Celestia explained the... situation in our last conversation." The man buying his friends was tall, with greying hair, dark grey eyes, and a neat grey suit. He seemed nice, but desperately dull.

Newt forced out a polite smile and offered up his hand. "Yes, that's me. It's good to meet you, Mr. Abbott."

Mr. Abbott glanced around the neat paddocks, taking in the different colors and sizes of hippogriffs around him. "They do seem to be well-bred animals. Did you start to take care of them after your mother fell ill, or did you help her with them before?"

Newt hated people that called beautiful creatures animals. It seemed so restricting to him, like they thought hippogriffs couldn't have feelings just as complex as wizards or Muggles alike. But Mother needed him to do this, so he swallowed down his dislike. "Oh, I've been following her around and helping them since I was a baby. Mother always said my creatures were my first true love in life."

The next few hours were excruciatingly painful, as one by one Mr. Abbott bowed and approached the hippogriffs, learning their names and their quirks. He was annoyingly good with them, and even took notes about what Newt was telling him, and it made it harder for Newt to hate him for taking his friends away from him.

Finally, after Mr. Abbott handed him a large bag of gold, he smiled at Newt. "Well, it's time for me to take them home. Thank you for taking such good care of them." He pulled out a large black leather suitcase and opened it up.

"What's that for?" He asked despite himself, suddenly very curious as to how this suitcase would help the man transport twenty-seven hippogriffs across the country.

"It's expanded inside, big enough to hold paddocks for all the animals. All I have to do is convince them to walk inside, and they'll be magically transported into an empty paddock. Pretty nifty, eh, Newton?" Mr. Abbott said cheerfully.

Newt left after watching the last of the hippogriffs vanish into the seemingly endless expanse of Mr. Abbott's suitcase. The latches clicked shut, and the man picked it up gently. "Please take care of them," Newt suddenly found himself pleading. "They—they're my friends."

Mr. Abbott smiled gently at him. "Don't worry, Newton. I'll take good care of them. They're my friends too, you see." And then he disapparated, leaving Newt alone in the empty stables.

For the second time in as many days, Newt burst into tears.

The healer Father had hired was back.

It was three weeks before he and Theseus returned to Hogwarts. Newt's summer had been long and silent, as he'd spent most of his time playing with the bowtruckles from the tree in the back and the kneazle kitten that had started turning up every morning at breakfast time. Without the hippogriffs to take care of, he'd felt oddly useless.

Mother hadn't woken up once, which only made the diagnosis the healer made all the more real. Theseus had been kind to him all summer, but in general actively avoided his little brother as he'd promised to do months ago on Newt's birthday. At first he'd liked the distance, but as the summer dragged on he found himself actually a little bit lonely.

Father had spoken less and less with each day Mother continued to not wake. It was odd, to see him so vulnerable when all throughout Newt's childhood he'd been strong, cold, and distant. When Mother first started getting sick, he'd been positively frigid, a figure of icy anger in his life that Newt dreaded angering. And yet now he was small, quiet, vulnerable. Newt almost wanted the anger back.

The healer was looking at them with pure sympathy. Her eyes were shining as she gently shut the door to Mother's bedroom. "She's... I've managed to wake her up for a short time more, but I don't think she'll survive the night. I'm so sorry."

The three of them all rushed inside and saw Mother lying on her back, terribly thin and pale. Newt hadn't visited her bed all summer. The idea of seeing his mother lying there, lost to the world and so unlike herself, was too painful for him to bear. Seeing her awake but unable to get up and greet them was somehow worse.

"There are my boys," Mother said weakly, smiling with her thin and emaciated lips as much as she could. They gathered around her, Newt sitting on the edge of the bed to get as close as he could without touching her. "Have you all been getting along?"

Newt glanced up from his hands and realized she was staring right at him, asking him specifically. "Yes," he said honestly, glad he didn't have to stretch the truth. Sure, things had been oddly quiet, but Father had written him letters the last few months of school, and Theseus had been treating him with respect—even if he was distant. "Yes, it's all been fine, but... it's just been so quiet without you or the Hippogriffs."

"I know, darling," Mother said, her eyes happy and sad at the same time, "I know."

Theseus' lip quivered. "Why do you have to die? It isn't fair. We just want to have our Mother, why can't we even have that?"

Father placed a heavy hand on his son's shoulder. "Theseus, don't."

Mother gently reached up and placed her shaking hand against his cheek. "You're such a beautiful, strong boy, Theseus. Just keep true to who you really are, and I know you'll be brilliant. It's going to be hard, but you don't need me to be the best you can be."

Theseus lifted his own hand to help keep Mother's in place. Actual tears were falling from his eyes, and from Father's too. She noticed this, and smiled up at her husband. "My love, don't be afraid to move on. And don't be afraid to love our boys, no matter how much they remind you of me."

"I'll do my best," he said.

Then she turned her gaze to Newt himself, who kept looking to his hands, which were grasping at the sheets to calm himself, and his mother and back again. It was an odd, twitching motion that he couldn't control. Tears burned in his eyes, unable to fall. "I know you miss them, and I know you'll miss me, but please try and talk to people, okay? Talk to Leta, talk to your brother... talk to Professor Dumbledore. I know you'll find some creatures, too, but you're so much like me. Don't be afraid to interact with humans too."

Newt's tears finally overflowed. He nodded sharply, staring into his mother's eyes. He wanted nothing more than to run, to leave the unbearable sadness oppressing the air in his lungs, but his feet couldn't move from their spot by her bedside. "I'll try, Mother," he said, voice thick with emotion.

"I know you will. I know all of you will." She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. "I want to stay awake. I want to stay here with all of you, but it's so..." A tear dripped slowly down her face, sliding down her cheek and off her chin. "It's so hard."

Father stepped forward and grabbed her hands, kissing them gently. "My love, you've been fighting so hard for so, so long. It's okay for you—for you to let go."

Newt's tears were coming heavier now, hiccuping violently out of him. "We love you, Mother, and we don't want you to hurt any more than you have to."

"But we'll still miss you," Theseus said thickly, now crouching by her bedside so they could all be as close as possible.

Mother smiled at them, bright and sad and beautiful, a radiant beam of melancholic joy, crying more freely. "I could hold on a bit longer, but if you're sure..."

Father's eyes were shining, his cheeks wet. "We'd rather it happen now, so you're not alone."

Newt suddenly reached out for her, brushing away her tears and gently rubbing her hair. His hands were shaking more than he thought possible, but he ignored it, focusing all his energy on his mother's face. "I love you," he whispered.

She looked at him, then at Theseus and Father. They could all see the energy draining from her, the life leaving her eyes. "I'll be waiting for you, my loves. I'll be watching out best I can."

"You can let go, Celestia. Everything you need to tell us we already know." Father smiled at her, the smile itself twitching as he held back sobs.

She nodded faintly, blinking heavily. "I'll see you again someday, Percy."

An ugly sob tore its way from Father's throat. "And I'll see you again."

"I... I love..." her words were slurring, her eyes nearly shut. Her body was so weak now, so limp. Her chest's rise and fall was practically impossible to notice. "I..."

And then there was a gentle sigh, and Mother's lips curved into a smile and her eyes slid shut for the final time. Her shallow breathing stopped. What little energy that had remained in her body was released, and her muscles all relaxed as though some godly puppeteer had cut the last of her strings.

Father placed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his tears dripping onto her pale skin.

Newt's tears suddenly evolved into heaving sobs, blinding him and robbing him of any breath. He thought he might be screaming for her, but he was too distant from the world to really know or care. He could feel someone hugging him, maybe trying to drag him away from Mother's body.

Theseus?

"She's not hurting anymore, Newt," Theseus was managing to say between tears. "It's okay. It's okay."

But it wasn't okay, and his brother knew that.

Newt broke free of Theseus' grip, sprinting to his room. There would be the comforting world of animal drawings, horklumps, bowtruckles, and even a hidden kneazle kitten, where he could bury his grief for now. Some day he'd be ready to do as his mother had begged of him and talk to another human, but for now his creatures were his only possible comfort.

Humans hurt you, and those that didn't would leave eventually.

Creatures were different, and right now different was what Newt really needed.

 **Author's Note:**

 **So... I may or may not have cried writing his chapter.**

 **Updates will continue to be sporadic as I gain inspiration and get around to writing them, but I will try to be better than before CoG came out.**

 **Thanks for every review, I love looking at what you think!**

 **Trellya**


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